Valentine (11 page)

'Not too much,' Jack teased her. 'Borderline, I'd say.'

'Cheeky bastard!' Valentine shot back, trying to swipe a
punch at him. And as they bantered away, the events of the
night before – the mad dash to Finn's house, the furtive sex
in his car – receded into the back of her mind like a bad
dream. She was back to feeling confident and flirtatious.

Spending any length of time in Frank's flat always made
Valentine feel stoned, even if she didn't have a joint, as
the unmistakable sickly sweet tang of dope was everywhere.
She stuck to vodka while Jack accepted one of the
super-sized joints Frank had rolled earlier. 'You'll regret
that,' Valentine told him. 'It will knock you out.' As she
knew only too well from past experience.

Jack rolled his eyes. 'I'm a big boy; I can cope and I'll
still be ready for whatever you've got planned for later.'

He winked at her while Valentine laughed and said,
'You won't be fit for anything once you've finished that.
You'll be away with the fairies and not in a good way.'

Half an hour later Valentine's prophesy was fulfilled.
Jack was laughing hysterically – at what? Valentine had
no idea, while Frank and Lily looked on indulgently.

'Did you give him the strong stuff ?' Valentine suddenly
asked.

Frank nodded. 'I wanted to see what he was made of.'

'I can't believe you did that!' Valentine exclaimed. 'He's
going to be wasted!'

Frank shrugged. 'He'll be all right.' They all looked
on as Jack stopped laughing and stretched out on the
ancient leather Chesterfield.

'I think the roast is done,' Lily declared.

Valentine tried to get Jack to come to the table to eat
but he shook his head and grabbed her hand. 'Come here
baby, lie down; we can look at the ceiling rose. It's
amazing.'

Valentine laughed. 'It's a lovely offer, but I'm going to
have dinner. I did warn you about the dope!'

'I'm fine!' Jack protested sleepily. But she slipped easily
out of his grasp and joined Lily and Frank at the table.

'I might have had designs on that young man,' she said
cheekily as Lily handed her a plate laden with roast chicken
and vegetables. 'He's going to be good for nothing now!'

'We had to see if he was good enough for you!' Frank
replied, tucking into his roast potatoes.

'And what's the verdict?' Valentine demanded.

'I like him,' Lily declared. 'Of course, I quite liked
Sam in his suit and his briefcase.' Lily's face assumed the
dreamy expression it always had whenever Sam's accessory
was mentioned. 'But Jack will pass. No, more than that:
I think he's lovely. And he thinks you are too – I saw him
looking at you, Valentine. He's totally smitten.'

'No way!' Valentine replied, feeling secretly delighted.
'So what did you think, Frank?'

'Well, he knew nothing about free jazz,' at which
Valentine and Lily shared a mutual eye-roll – nor did
they. In fact whenever Frank insisted on playing it, it
always made Valentine feel as if she was going mad,
because of the lack of a discernible pattern in the music.
'But he seems sound.'

From the sofa, Jack was snoring loudly.

'Just as well then, isn't it?' Valentine replied, spearing
a carrot. 'Seeing as how you're going to be spending the
night with him.'

'No worries, I've got a spare duvet and if he wakes up
I'll find out what his intentions are towards you. I'm not
having another gutless bastard ruin your life.'

'I would hang on to this young man,' Lily told her as
they cleared the table after supper.

'What, even though he's a total lightweight?' Valentine
joked back.

'Valentine, I'm serious,' Lily replied and she looked it.
She also looked very pale, Valentine noticed. 'I know you
think you still have feelings for Finn.'

Did she? How did she know that? Valentine tried not
to give anything away. Lily had an unerring ability to
know things about her. She had often speculated to Lauren
about the possibility of Lily being a white witch. 'But he's
not the one for you. He never was, or he would never
have treated you so appallingly. Jack's different – he's got
integrity; he would never do something like that.'

'And you can tell that from one meeting?' Valentine
asked sceptically.

'Yes I can,' Lily replied. Then she winced, a spasm of
pain contorting her face. She put out a hand to steady
herself on the kitchen table.

'Are you all right, Lily?' Valentine asked, instantly
concerned.

'Yes, yes, it's nothing, just a bit of indigestion. You get
off now. We'll send Jack up if he becomes conscious.'

'Can I cook you dinner to make up for last night?' Jack
asked as they travelled on the bus to rehearsals the next
morning. Even hungover and unshaven he still looked
sexy – if anything more than ever, because he had that
just-rolled-out-of-bed look. 'I can't believe I passed out
like that,' he added sheepishly. 'I hope Frank and Lily
don't think I'm a complete tosser. They're cool, by the
way.'

Valentine laughed. 'I did warn you that it is very strong
stuff. And yes, OK to dinner,' she said more cautiously.

'Good,' Jack replied, sounding pleased. 'I feel like I
need to eat something healthy and you look like you need
to eat something.'

Valentine gave him a sceptical look. 'Yeah, I'm just
wasting away, aren't I? I'm surprised there aren't news
articles devoted to the disappearance of Valentine
Fleming.'

'Just don't go all extreme on me; you're gorgeous the
way you are,' Jack replied, giving her one of his appraising
looks. There was a pause in conversation where Valentine
was aware of his gaze and felt as skittish and shy as a
teenager.

'So can you cook?' she asked.

Jack nodded. 'I've been told my puttanesca sauce is
unsurpassed.'

'Was this by one of your older ladies?' Valentine said
cheekily.

'I haven't forgotten what happened last time we had
this conversation,' Jack replied, raising his eyebrows
meaningfully.

Nor had Valentine. She felt hot all over just thinking
about it.

'I thought I'd ask Rufus, Kitty and Toby as well,' Jack
continued. And Valentine couldn't help feeling slightly
disappointed that it wasn't going to be just the two of
them.

'Mmmm that was absolutely delicious!' Toby exclaimed,
leaning back contentedly in his chair. 'I just hope I'm still
going to be able to fit into my costume!'

'Me too,' Rufus replied.

'It's OK for you, Valentine; you don't have that
problem, do you?' Kitty put in wickedly. The five of them
were sitting round Jack's dining table. Crammed would
be a more fitting description, as the table was tiny and it
was almost impossible to sit round it without brushing
against someone else. Valentine had given up trying to
move her leg away from Jack's and was secretly enjoying
the feeling of his thigh against hers.

'Ah, but Valentine didn't finish hers; what was wrong
with it?' Jack demanded in a deliberately bad French
accent, folding his arms and adopting the pose of a top
chef.

'It was lovely,' Valentine answered, hoping she didn't
have any basil caught in her teeth – not a good look. 'I'm
just trying not to eat too much at the moment.' And it
had been delicious, but the combined forces of the
prospect of the nipple tassels and Jack so close to her had
effectively suppressed her appetite. He had cooked Italian
and even though it looked delicious Valentine had not
been able to manage more than a few mouthfuls. Damn
Finn for putting her off her favourite food.

'Well, you must have some of my tiramisu,' Jack
declared, getting up to clear the plates away. 'It's home
made.'

'Is there no end to your talents, Jack?' Kitty asked,
winking suggestively at Valentine. Valentine stuck her
tongue out. It had not taken the other actors long to
detect the undercurrent of attraction, or more accurately
raging torrent running between Valentine and Jack – even
though she had told Kitty several times now that nothing
had happened.

'Nothing's happened
yet,
' Kitty had said meaningfully.

'Are you taking Jerry Hall's mantra to heart then?'
Kitty continued now, 'A maid in the living room, a cook
in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom? Your flat is
very tidy, you're a very good cook and dot dot dot.'

Jack laughed. 'I've got a merciless landlady, which is
why the flat is so tidy. And I never kiss and tell about the
bedroom.' He was looking at Valentine and she stared
right back at him, wondering just what he would be like
in the bedroom. In his lovely bedroom, with the honey-coloured
stripped wooden floors, the silver art deco
fireplace, the king-size bed with the wrought iron bedstead,
painted in the white distressed fashion that Valentine had
always loved and dreamed one day of owning. In the
meantime the only distressed thing in her flat was herself.

'Anyway, great view.' Valentine was the first to drag
her eyes away and look out of the bay window at the
stunning view of the London skyline, Canary Wharf
winking conspiratorially in the distance. 'It almost makes
me like North London.'

'God, you're as bad as Lauren! West Londoners are
so judgemental!' Jack shot back. 'You're going to have to
spend a weekend up here and then you'll change your
mind. We can go out for breakfast, go for a walk on
Hampstead Heath and end up at the Everyman watching
a film. And you'll be converted.'

'Sounds like a tempting offer, Valentine. You can get
to sample all Jack's talents,' Kitty said mischievously.

Valentine ignored her and held up the bottle of red,
'More wine anyone?'

After dessert – also delicious, apparently, as Kitty, Rufus
and Toby practically licked their plates clean while
Valentine passed again, given it was another Italian job
– the others were very unsubtle about leaving Valentine
and Jack alone together. Kitty booked a taxi for the three
of them and when Valentine asked if she could share it,
Kitty said that they weren't going anywhere near her,
which was a blatant lie. Then the three of them practically
sprinted out of the flat.

'Stay for one more drink,' Jack asked her, as she was
about to call a taxi.

'Just one,' she agreed. 'I'm in at nine tomorrow with
the Twirlies and I don't want to be hungover.'

Jack poured her a glass and they both sat on the sofa
(on the lovely, comfortable cream sofa – no springs going
into buttocks here, unlike her sofa, which doubled as an
instrument of torture). It had been over a week since
Tamara's party, where they'd both made their feelings for
each other obvious – a week that had been so hectic with
rehearsals that they hadn't been alone together. But
Valentine remembered vividly what it had felt like in Jack's
arms, how wonderful it had felt to be that wanted and
desired.

'Cheers,' Jack said, clinking his glass against hers.
'Here's to getting to know each other better.'

It was such a corny line and Valentine wanted to come
back with a witty reply, but found that she couldn't. She
did want to get to know him better.

'Sorry that was such a cheesy line,' Jack groaned, putting
his glass down on the table in front of him and frowning.
'But it's true. Of all the plays in all the world, I'm very
glad you're in mine, Valentine Fleming.' Another corny
line, but Valentine let it go. 'So am I,' she replied quietly,
taking a sip of her drink, as desire pulsed through her.

'Put the glass down,' Jack said softly.

'Why? Do you think I've got a drink problem?'
Valentine shot back, but her heart was racing as Jack
shook his head, took the glass away from her, and pulled
her towards him. It was a very practised move, her head
told her, while her body said yes and so what? Then it
was kiss number three.

Desire had freed Valentine from her inhibitions. She
put her hands up to his hair and ran her fingers through
it, which was what she'd been dying to do ever since they'd
met. Then she slipped them under his T-shirt, along his
thankfully hair-free back (though frankly right now she
was feeling so turned on she wouldn't have cared if she'd
discovered hair neck to toe), feeling his smooth, warm
skin as he expertly undid the buttons on her black silk
shirt and caressed her breasts. She moved her hands round
his neck and gently pulled him down so he was lying on
top of her and she could feel the whole of his body against
hers. He kissed her breasts, sending fireworks of pleasure
shooting round her body. She longed to feel him and she
boldly reached down and caressed him through his jeans,
feeling his hardness. She felt very sexy as she popped open
the buttons on his jeans. He inched up her skirt and
Valentine thanked God that for once she was wearing
hold-up stockings and not her usual eighty-denier black
tights, which were about as alluring as – well, she couldn't
think right now because of what Jack was doing to her.

'You look so sexy,' Jack murmured, kissing her thighs
just above the stocking and then kissing her inner thigh,
then higher and higher. Valentine lost herself in the feel
of his lips against her skin. Then he broke away to kiss
her mouth while his fingers caressed her through her
underwear in tantalising circles. Jack knew what he was
doing. Then he was gently sliding her silk briefs down
and Valentine was pushing his jeans down and saw he
really did have a fantastic big cock. The old saying that
size didn't matter had never held true to Valentine. It
bloody did. But by the look of it Jack had no worries in
that department.

Suddenly the door buzzer went off, shattering the
moment of intimacy. Jack groaned, 'Just ignore it; it's
bound to be someone ringing the wrong bell,' and sensing
that Valentine was going to move he once more kissed
her, silencing her protests. 'God, I want you so much,'
he said, looking into her eyes. And she wanted him so
much, really she did, with an intensity that almost took
her breath away, and she was about to tell him when
someone, a someone who sounded a lot like Julia Turner,
knocked loudly on the front door and called out Jack's
name.

'I'm not going to answer it,' Jack murmured, kissing
her again. But now the someone who was unmistakably
Julia was hammering on the door and shouting. 'Fuck!'
Jack exclaimed with feeling. 'I'll have to speak to her or
she'll wake up the whole house. But don't move,' he
ordered Valentine as he reluctantly peeled himself off her
body and buttoned up his jeans. 'I'll get rid of her.'

Bloody Julia Turner! Did she have an inbuilt radar for
detecting when women were getting close to Jack?
Valentine heard him open the door and tell her to calm
down. Julia was still shouting and she sounded drunk as
she slurred, 'Jack, please, I just need to talk to you and
then I'll go.'

'This is not a good time right now; you can't come in,'
Jack said firmly.

'Why? Have you got someone here?' Outrage in her
voice. 'Am I spoiling your lovers' tryst?'

Valentine sat bolt upright, pulling down her skirt and
clutching her shirt to her, which was just as well, as Julia
burst into the living room, closely pursued by Jack. She
was clearly the worse for wear and had to hold on to a
chair to stop herself swaying.

'Julia, I really would like you to go,' Jack said, angry
now.

'Oh would you?' Julia said sharply, without a trace of
her trademark husky tone. 'That's not what you said a
few weeks ago, is it? You see, Valentine, Jack might protest
now, but back then he was only too happy when I called
round. We might have split up but he still wanted me.
And I know he still does, don't you?' She managed to go
husky again for the last comment.

Oh God, this was horrible! Valentine sat on the sofa,
frozen in embarrassment.

'Julia, really you need to go,' Jack insisted, his jaw
clenched angrily.

'What? So that you two can screw!' The husk was gone
again. 'Just tell me Jack, what's she got that I haven't?'
She pointed an accusing finger at Valentine, who was
tempted to reply, 'Fifteen fewer years,' but she wasn't that
bitchy.

'I know all about her from Eva – how she tried to
wreck her relationship with Finn.'

'That's enough, Julia,' Jack replied.

'Who encouraged you to go into acting in the first
place? It was me, darling. I've championed you all the
way and now you want to throw away everything we had
together for a quick fuck with her!' She turned to Jack,
her beautiful blue eyes glinting with tears.

Valentine took the opportunity to get up from the sofa
with as much dignity as she could muster, and still clutching
her shirt to her, hobbled to the bathroom. There she
attempted to calm her wild hair and did up her bra and
her shirt. Her face was flushed and her lips were slightly
swollen from the kisses. Bugger it, her knickers were on
the sofa. Matching her appearance, her mind was all over
the place, the doubts were creeping back in. What had
she been thinking of ? She didn't need this complication
in her life. The play opened in three days; she should be
focusing on that. She had to escape the scene of emotional
carnage. She grabbed her bag, intending to creep out of
the flat without saying goodbye; the knickers would have
to be sacrificed.

But Jack was waiting by the door. 'Don't go. I'll get
rid of her, I promise.'

'I really think I should, don't you? You've obviously
got lots to talk about,' Valentine said brusquely, trying to
banish the image of him kissing her body. He was a player;
he'd slept with Julia when it suited him and he probably
had a string of other women. He was probably just like
Finn. She was a fool to ever get involved. 'I'll get the bus;
thanks for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow.' And without
giving Jack a chance to reply she opened the front door
and marched down the stairs, ignoring Jack calling out
after her and feeling very proud of her composure. It was
only when she got to the bus stop that she realised she
hadn't pulled her skirt down at the back and had been
mooning most of Ferme Park Road, N8.

There was no denying that she liked Jack a lot. Wanted
him, desired him, fancied the absolute arse off him and
something else besides. But Julia's untimely arrival last
night had unsettled Valentine. She knew she had to put
the brakes on, whatever she had going with Jack, for the
sake of her work – the show must go on and all that; she
could not afford to be in emotional turmoil right now.
The very next day, while they both had some time to kill
between scenes, she asked him to go for a walk with her.
Outside the sky was an oppressive grey and it was raining
heavily – a perfect accompaniment to her mood. To cap
it all her hair was bound to go crazily curly in the damp.
She would no doubt end up looking like she'd had a tight
perm, circa 1977. She was willing to bet that Julia Turner
never had a bad hair day. As they walked along the road,
trying to avoid getting drenched by the cars driving
through the puddles, he tried to apologise about Julia
again, but Valentine cut across him.